


Body and Katra

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: In the wake of Terra Prime, Trip and T'Pol define their relationship, at great risk to their careers and their lives.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Spoilers: "Demons," "Terra Prime," "Bound," and "Harbinger" for sure; as this takes place where "Terra Prime" leaves off, any of the episodes may be referenced.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and the characters and situations this story is based on are the property of CBS/Paramount. I just borrowed them for a few minutes. What I've done with them, however, is mine and mine alone, so if no one sues me or steals from me, we're cool. This is strictly a labor of love; no money was made from writing it or showing it off—I don't think you could get anyone to pay to read it any way. ;)

  
Author's notes: Yeah, I know this prologue is extremely short. If this were an episode, think of it as the two minutes of "teaser" you see before the opening credits start.

Chapter One will follow soon.  


* * *

**February 17, 2155**

 

Charles "Trip" Tucker had known this day was coming, but only now was it really hitting him: _We're in deep shit_ , he thought. His hands wouldn't stop sweating.

He turned to exchange worried glances at his friend and commanding officer, Captain Jonathan Archer, as T'Pol took the stand. Trip had good reason to be worried: whether or not he and T'Pol even had Starfleet careers any more depended on the outcome of this hearing. Even Jon was bound to catch hell for his part in this.

Trip caught T'Pol's eye and tried to smile reassuringly as the bailiff swore her in. She was elegant and composed as always, every short, dark hair in place and her face expressionless to all but those who knew her best. All any of them could do now was tell the truth, and hope that the board of inquiry saw fit to see things as the Enterprise officers did, and drop the charges of what they considered to be a blatant disregard of regulations.

After T'Pol affirmed she would tell nothing but the truth, the bailiff asked her to state her name.

"T'Pol of Vulcan; daughter of Suran and T'Les."

"Are you now or have you ever been known by another name?"

"Yes," T'Pol answered evenly.

Archer shifted uneasily in his seat. Trip reminded himself to keep breathing.

"Please state that name for the record."

T'Pol paused a moment and stared impassively at the members of the board of inquiry. She projected clearly as she spoke, her large brown eyes never wavering.

"Mrs. Charles Anthony Tucker, the Third."

 

**TBC**


	2. Chapter One--For Better Or For Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: "Freebird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd is the property of Duchess Music Corporation/Longitude Music Co. No profit was made from the use of either; this story is a humble labor of love paying tribute to characters I adore , using a favorite song in this chapter to create ambiance.

  
Author's notes: DISCLAIMER: "Freebird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd is the property of Duchess Music Corporation/Longitude Music Co. No profit was made from the use of either; this story is a humble labor of love paying tribute to characters I adore , using a favorite song in this chapter to create ambiance.

 

A/N: Between their roles in saving Earth from the Xindi and helping to forge the alliance that would eventually become the Federation, I gave Malcolm, Hoshi, and Travis some long-overdue and well-deserved promotions.

My apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. I got extremely caught up with school. Now that I'm done. Chapter Two is in the works.  


* * *

January 24, 2155  
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T'Pol steeled herself against the wall of smoke and noise as she entered the crowded bar. She recognized the mournful strains of an electric guitar melody broadcasting from jukebox speakers, something Trip had described as the "sounds of home" she'd heard once while visiting his quarters on ship business.

Â   
 **If I leave here tomorrow  
would you still remember me?  
For I must be traveling on now  
'cause there's too many places  
I've got to see...**

Â   
He wasn't hard to find in his dingy corner, looking rough but not in the right way amidst all the leather and denim and flannel surrounding him. She was certain the establishment's other patrons were examples of those Trip had long ago identified to her as "bikers" and "rednecks," though she hadn't had occasion to study them up close before now. Conversations briefly stopped and T'Pol felt eyes upon her as she passed each table, some contemptuous, some mistrustful, and some merely curious. She was dressed in civilian attire, however her pointed ears and rigid demeanor betrayed her as an outsider.

The clink of glasses and the crack of balls striking each other on the pool table eventually reasserted themselves as counter-melody to the music, and the din of the bar's natural ambient noises returned to their customarily oppressive levels.

Her limbs were already heavy with grief, having attended the memorial service for their daughter only that morning. Her chest tightened upon seeing the table before him littered with beer bottles and shot glasses. He must have been drinking continuously since leaving the ship that afternoon.

It had all been too much.

Â   
 _As their private shuttlepod approached Starfleet Headquarters, they could see the sidewalk outside overflowing with flowers and stuffed animals and hand-made signs expressing prayers and sympathy for the grieving parents and their lost child. T'Pol had marveled at the Human capacity for kindness and generosity toward those whom they had never met._

_Across the street, the sidewalk was pulsing. Combined forces of San Francisco Police and Starfleet Security were pushing back angry mobs of protestors who were clutching home made signs of their own, hurling angry curses at the oncoming shuttle and the obscene interspecies union they believed had produced the child being mourned today. It was perplexing that the same species that had the ability to demonstrate such compassion was also capable of such cruelty._

_T'Pol had squeezed Trip's hand as he fought back the tears, echoing her thoughts. "They didn't even know her. She was just a baby... How can they hate her, T'Pol?" His blue eyes pleaded with her to search the depths of all her logic and reason and produce a satisfactory answer._

_She had none._

Â   
It took him several moments to register her presence, bleary eyes moving from his freshly drained glass up to her impassive face.

"Jesus," he slurred. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

"You must return with me to the _Enterprise_ ," she answered without preamble.

Trip chuckled mirthlessly. "I don' gotta do nuthin'."

Before T'Pol could pose an argument to the contrary that included an estimate of a blood alcohol level that should have him hospitalized as well as an observation of its effects on his diction and grammar, a waitress in cutoff shorts and a bustline that was pushing the stretchy fabric of her halter top to its absolute limit approached. "'Nother round, Rock Star?"

"Yeah," Trip grinned flirtatiously. "And bring my friend here sumpin' girly, with an umbrella in it." He laughed to himself as she left with some of the clutter she'd cleared from the table. He snorted. "Been a long time since they hired one with all her teeth," he muttered.

Â   
 **But if I stayed here with you, girl  
things just couldn't be the same  
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now  
and this bird you cannot change...**

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"So you're just in time for the wet tee shirt contest," Trip drawled brightly, turning back to her. "First place is five hundred dollars." He leaned in and whispered confidentially. "You got it in the bag, darlin'. Your rack's worth at least twice that." With a wink, he tipped back his beer bottle and emptied it of the remainder of its contents.

T'Pol pressed on, ignoring him. "This will do nothing to abate your grief. You are making yourself ill." Careless of their public surroundings, she extended a supplicating hand toward him. "Please...come with me."

Â   
 **And this bird you cannot change...**

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Trip slammed his beer bottle onto the table, freeing his hand to shove her arm away, his other still confined to a sling. He wasn't quite healed from the phaser blast he'd taken during their escape from Mars. "What's the matter?" he hissed. "Didn't get enough chewin' me up and spittin' me out after the funeral?"

T'Pol barely resisted flinching from the anger and hostility directed her way. She had seen him drunk previously, but that had been under much different and more celebratory circumstances. Never before had he consumed this much alcohol or been this emotionally imbalanced. "You misunderstood..."

Â   
 _The shuttle was completely silent on the return trip to Enterprise, aside from Travis Mayweather's occasional low murmurs to the bridge and the shuttle deck. Though their pilot had afforded them as much privacy as the little pod would permit, fear of losing emotional control kept them from offering each other even the smallest gesture of comfort._

_Trip had accompanied her to her quarters. Pausing outside the door, she had said, "There is a ritual period of seclusion..."_

_Trip held his hands up. "Say no more. By now I should be used to you telling me to get lost ten minutes after you tell me you need me. Enjoy your seclusion."_

_Her control slipped. It always did where he was concerned. Shock and abject horror kept her from finding her voice before it was too late. "Trip--wait!" She had meant to ask him if he would be willing to remain with her for the prescribed five days of mourning._

_But he was already gone._

Â   
"I understand plenty," he said through his clenched jaw, snapping her back to the present. "'Let's be friends, Trip.' 'Fuck off, Trip.' 'Get naked, Trip.' 'Fuck off, Trip.' 'I want ya back, Trip.' 'Fuck off, Trip...'"

The waitress reappeared with the drinks, giving T'Pol the sympathetic smile of someone who'd had much experience with the frustrations of being sober while dealing with one so completely intoxicated. She retreated quickly, apparently not wanting to bear witness to the ensuing carnage. Trip went straight for his shot glass.

Â   
 **Lord knows I can't change...**

Â   
"You're being irrational," T'Pol pointed out.

Trip snorted incredulously. " _I'm_ bein' irrational? At least I know what the fuck I want!"

"And what is that?"

He brought his fist down hard on the table, catching stares from nearby patrons. "I want it to not hurt any more!" He took a swallow of his beer. "Sonofabitch! I can't walk away from you. I can't drink you away, either." He pointed to his temple, indicating the telepathic bond that had formed between them. "What the hell am I gonna do?"

Â   
 _"Lieutenant Sato, I am unable to locate Commander Tucker."_

_"Did you try the comm?"_

_T'Pol struggled to conceal her panic. "He is not answering. Please--I require your assistance." She had attempted meditation to clear her mind of the grief over her child and the incident between her and Trip. She had been unable to focus, disturbing images intruding upon her concentration and a profound emptiness overwhelming her; she needed her child's father--her mate!--if she ever hoped to attain any sense of stability._

_"Well..." Hoshi had answered apprehensively. T'Pol suspected she was weighing the dilemma of betraying a confidence. It was all she could do to wait patiently. Finally, Hoshi keyed some information into a PADD and handed it over. "There's a bar he likes to go to when he doesn't want to be found. Careful, it's a real hole. The crowd can be kind of rough."_

_T'Pol accepted the PADD. "Thank you, Lieutenant."_

_Before completely letting go, Hoshi said conspiratorially, "Whatever happens, you didn't get this from me."_

_"Understood."_

Â   
She had come to tell him about their incomplete bond, about how evidence in the _Kir'Shara_ suggested that if they accepted their situation and completed the process, they may finally attain a level of peace.

Â   
 **Bye, bye, baby, it's been sweet, love  
though this feeling I can't change  
But please don't take it so badly  
'cause Lord knows, I'm to blame...**

Â   
He was clearly too intoxicated to find peace tonight. "We can discuss it, if you come back to the ship," she said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "The _Kir'Shara_ \--"

"Know what your problem is?" Trip grated, stabbing an accusatory finger at her. "That goddamn book got the best of you! You wanted to find yourself. You sure as hell don't look any more found to me."

T'Pol cast her gaze down. He was right, to a point.

"I was gonna teach her to ride a bike," Trip blurted.

"What?"

Â   
 **But if I stayed here with you, girl  
things just couldn't be the same  
'Cause I'm as free as a bird, now  
And this bird you cannot change  
oh-oh-oh-oh-oh  
And this bird you cannot change...**

Â   
"Yeah," he continued, his hands shaking and his lower lip quivering. "I was gonna help you with midnight feedings and diaper changin'...and I was gonna teach her how to ride a bike...and take her to school the first day...and scare the piss outta her first boyfriend..."

T'Pol's eyebrow climbed, unable to conceal her astonishment. Their child had only been in their lives a few short days. T'Pol had been focusing on the moment: getting their daughter to safety and doing what she could to ensure her survival. Trip had been looking to the future.

Â   
 **And this bird you cannot change...**

Â   
"...and you were gonna be there," he continued, scrubbing a hand against his face as the tears started to roll. "You were always gonna be there. And now she's gone...it's all gone!" He was sobbing openly.

T'Pol finally had precious insight into the matter. It was the first indication he'd ever given her that he'd seen her holding any permanence in his life...and he had believed her continued presence was dependent on their child. She had gravely misjudged him, and he her.

Â   
 **Lord help me, I can't change...**

Â   
She had been shielding herself against the barrage of his emotions. He was broken and feeling isolated, and too drunk to be reasoned with. The only way she could even begin to repair the damage was to open herself to him and let the bond energy flow freely, letting him feel her surround him, leaving herself vulnerable in her own tenuous and chaotic internal state. Bracing herself, she let down each shield, one by one.

Â   
 **Lord, I can't change...**

Â   
"Oh, God...!" Trip gasped. "What's happening?" Panicking, he clumsily pushed himself away from the table, sending beer bottles clattering to the floor.

T'Pol experienced a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea. She felt like she was suffocating. She felt--

Â   
 **Won't you fly high, free bird, yeah?**

Â   
She couldn't steady her legs under her quickly enough to rise and stop him from stumbling into the large and angry-looking gentleman behind him. Sending his chair tumbling to the side, the man grabbed the front of Trip's shirt with one beefy fist and drew the other back to hit him.

Before he could make contact, T'Pol was on her feet, acting on instinct alone. With her superior Vulcan speed and strength, she grabbed the man's wrist and squeezed. "Forgive him," T'Pol said evenly in the no-nonsense tone most Humans didn't dare to argue with. "He is grieving the loss of his child today. He meant no offense."

The man snarled, struggled against T'Pol in an attempt to shake her off, but to no avail. T'Pol merely squeezed harder. She would meditate later on the satisfaction some part of her within her deepest recesses was deriving from the slight _crunch_ of bone beneath her fingers; for now, her only priority was the safety of her mate.

Gasping, the man relented, shutting his eyes against the pain. "I'm sorry for your loss..."

With that, T'Pol released him.

Propping Trip against the wall, T'Pol got the waitress's attention. "We are leaving. I must settle his account."

The waitress passed a PADD to T'Pol.

Keeping one hand on Trip, T'Pol used the other to enter her account information. "Where is the nearest exit?"

The waitress indicated the back.

T'Pol returned the PADD. "I apologize for any inconvenience we may have caused you. I hope that is a sufficient gratuity for your trouble."

Surveying the PADD, the waitress's eyes widened, then a smile spread across her face. "Come on back any time, Sugar. Ask for Candy."

T'Pol had no intention of doing either.

Supporting Trip under the axillary region, T'Pol began to guide him toward the exit. Ordinarily their height difference would've made this more problematic than it was, but his level of intoxication had rendered him unable to stand upright.

T'Pol concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

The music had picked up tempo, electric guitar riffs screeching in her sensitive Vulcan ears.

The odor of cigarette smoke and sweat and stale beer was stifling.

There were too many bodies!

Neon light dulled through the barroom's haze.

She was disoriented.

The door was so far away!

Laughter erupted at the table beside her.

Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of their shared grief and Trip's body.

Just a few more steps...

She was drowning.

Trip's body convulsed against hers as he continued to sob. "Oh, God...T'Pol!"

She was unable to answer. She had to be strong. For him...for _them._

They were only a meter away from the door, and it still seemed out of reach.

Finally, they emerged into a poorly-lit alleyway, littered with debris from overflowing garbage receptacles. The air quality had not improved for being outside; the vicinity reeked of rotting meat and old urine. Some things her nasal numbing agent simply couldn't compensate for. She also detected a hint of ozone in the air, warning that a storm would soon arrive.

Trip stumbled, collapsed to his knees, taking T'Pol with him. She felt the first faint drops of moisture falling from the sky. "Trip, we must go."

"I can't..." he stammered through his sobs. "I can't..."

"You must," she said gently. "We can resolve this on the ship."

His sobbing stopped abruptly. "Oh, God..."

Acting quickly, T'Pol pushed his head aside and scrambled out of the way. She held him steady as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the concrete. When he finished, he sank back into her embrace.

"So sorry, T'Pol..." he mumbled, drained.

The occasional sprinkle from above became a full drizzle.  
"This, too, is surmountable," she answered quietly, paraphrasing Surak.

"I love you..."

She wondered if he was aware of what he was saying. "And I you."

"Don' ever leave me alone again..."

Parting from him was no longer possible, even if T'Pol had desired it. She tightened her embrace around him. "Never again, _Ashayam_."

There was a flash of light, followed by the crash of thunder. The rain intensified. Keeping one arm firmly around Trip, she fumbled to extract her communicator from her pocket. It chirped obediently as she flipped it open, a connection to the _Enterprise_ established. "T'Pol to Reed," she said over the rain. "I require your assistance."  
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TBC


End file.
